


a kiss like my heart is hitting the ground

by nevernevergirl



Category: Runaways (Comics), Runaways (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-12-30 17:49:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevernevergirl/pseuds/nevernevergirl
Summary: gert, chase, and the conversations we didn't see. a collection of season 2 missing scenes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> basically, i wrote a bunch of scenes for various wips that no longer fit, and i had several attempts at post-s2 fic that changed concept about a million times, and i was pretty proud of and happy with a lot of them, and didn't want them to go unposted. my other missing scenes fic is a little more gen, and i didn't want to take over with roughly a billion gertchase only chapters, so this is gertchase centric s2 only. will possibly add more in the future if that's of interest to y'all, haha.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> directly after gert attempts to talk to molly at the end of 202; ariela mentioned they filmed a scene here, so this is sort of a version of that.

“Gert?”

 

She startles a little, bumping her head against the wall she slumped against halfway through the walk back to her room. The hallway is kind of dark, save for a bit a light left on in a room at the end of the hall, but she can just make out Chase stepping out of the shadows.

 

She sniffles a little, hastily wiping her face on her sleeve.

 

“Um. Hey,” she says, looking up. He takes a step closer, close enough that she can see him frowning.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks, quietly. Like he knows it’s probably a dumb question, because she’s sitting on a floor she had to check for stray needles before settling in to bawl her eyes out, but she doesn’t really mind that he asked. Yesterday, it might have annoyed her. A few hours ago, it definitely would have.

 

But she’s so tired, and she sort of wants to talk about it.

 

“Not really,” she says. She reaches out, patting the floor next to her, and he bites his lip for a second before sliding down. Maybe the dark’s fucking with his depth perception, because he’s so close their arms are pressed together, skin to skin. Maybe that was on purpose. Either way, he’s warm, and she can hear him breathing, and it’s grounding.

 

“I asked Molly if she wanted me to stay with her tonight,” she starts, and her voice comes out shaky. She really, really hopes she doesn’t start crying again. She thinks she probably _could_ cry in front of Chase, but she doesn’t want to right now—not when she doesn’t have the emotional wherewithal to parse out what it _means_ that she could probably cry in front of him. “She didn’t want me to.”

 

“Oh,” he says, like he understands, which is nice, but she knows he doesn’t. Molly was kind of the group little sister from the moment the Hernandezes brought her to her first Pride meeting, but it’s been different for a decade now. She’s Gert’s actual sister, and that means something different, and Chase doesn’t have any siblings.

 

“When we were little, um. She used to get nightmares. And she would crawl into my bed and ask for a song, so I made up this lullaby,” she tries. Chase is quiet, listening. “I didn’t always sing that one, but it was her favorite. And she asked for it the night we found out our parents. So I thought, tonight, after what happened with Tina—”

 

Chase’s hand finds hers, palm sliding against palm.

 

“It’s stupid,” she says.

 

“It’s not,” he murmurs.

 

“She’s so angry,” Gert says. “I know she has every right to be, and I am too, it’s just—”

 

“She’s Molly, and she’s 14, and she’s your sister,” he says, then stares at her like a deer in the headlights. “Sorry. I cut you off.”

 

She lets out a snort-laugh sob and leans her head against his shoulder. He shifts a little for her; it’s kind of uncomfortable when they’re still holding hands the way they are, but she doesn’t want to move.

 

“Yeah, you did,” she murmurs. “But that’s it, I guess. It just sucks. This whole thing sucks, and she shouldn’t be here. None of us should have.”

 

“Can’t argue with that,” he says, quietly.

 

They’re silent for a moment, and she finally gives in to the strain in her neck, sitting up. He watches her, like he’s waiting.

 

“Do you think we’re going to survive this?” she whispers.

 

“I don’t know,” he says. It’s honest, and it hurts like ripping off a band aid. “I think we made it this far. I think we found this place, which is, like. Super insane.”

 

She tilts her head, nodding a little, because he’s not wrong.

 

“I think it’s a good thing we’re all stuck here together,” he says, finally. “I think we’d kind of be fucked on our own.”

 

“Well,” she says, feeling the corners of her mouth lift into a smile. “You _did_ run out of protein powder.”

 

“Who says that was my only packet?” he shoots back, and she groans. He shakes his head. “Seriously, though. At least we’ll put up a fight.”

 

“We can’t fight an earthquake.”

 

“Yeah. But we’ll probably try anyway.”

 

She smiles a little sadly. “Yeah. Probably.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place between 202 and 203.

“But seriously,” Gert says, pushing herself half-up on her elbows, scrunching up her nose as she looks up at the ceiling. “It kind of looks like Danny DeVito.”

Chase shifts on the bed a little toward her, following her gaze. 

“I don’t see it,” he shrugs. “It just looks like an acorn to me.”

She levels him with an unimpressed look. “An acorn?”

“Yeah, like….look,” he mumbles, raising his arm and pointing toward the ceiling, tracing his finger vaguely in the air. “Like that.”

She raises a skeptical eyebrow and he shrugs, yawning. Gert bites her lip, sliding back down next to him.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. Chase frowns.

“For not seeing the acorn?”

“For keeping you up,” she sighs. “Also, it’s not an acorn.”

“Is too. And you’re not keeping me up.” Gert rolls her eyes, and he shrugs again. “I mean, I guess you are. But it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me because I was upset about Molly earlier.”

“I’m not being nice!”

Gert raises her eyebrows, and Chase rolls his eyes. 

“You know what I mean,” he sighs. “This isn’t about Molly. Or the house. Or being runaways.”

“Okay,” she says, skeptically. “What’s it about?”

“I like talking to you. Or hearing you talk.”

Gert rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling and biting her lip. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he says, quietly. He’s still on his side, and she’s pretty sure he’s looking at her. She takes a deep breath.

“I like talking to you, too,” she says quietly. She turns her head a little, just enough to see him.

“Oh.”

He’s smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> insomnia conversation, anytime you'd like to imagine between 202 and 206?

“If you put pancake batter in a waffle maker, would you get a waffle-shaped pancake, or a pancake-flavored waffle?”

Gert sets the worn Audre Lorde book she’d been reading down on the mattress next to her, wrinkling her nose as she turns to look at Chase. He’s looking up at the (totally Danny DeVito shaped) water stain on the ceiling, but when he feels her move, he turns a little and grins.

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” she raises her eyebrows.

He shrugs. “Can’t sleep.”

“We have stacks of books you can read, and some of them aren’t even that moldy,” she whispers, mock-conspiratorially, and smiles when he laughs. She shakes her head. “Do pancakes even have their own flavor? They can be all kinds of flavors.”

“Yeah, but a blueberry waffle doesn’t taste the same as a blueberry pancake,” he says, reasonably. “It has crunch.”

“Crunch is a texture, not a flavor,” Gert argues, turning on her side to face him, propping herself on her elbow. 

“But is it crunchy because of the shape, or the batter?” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Like, can you even have a crunchy pancake? Or does the waffle iron make it crunchy no matter what?”

Gert thinks. “Is that batter that different? I think Stacey just uses more margarine.”

Chase wrinkles his nose. “She puts margarine in waffles and pancakes? Maybe she really is evil.”

“Hey, Earth Balance is vegan,” Gert says, reasonably. Chase laughs, tugging on her arm gently to pull her closer. She falls half on top of him with an exaggerated oof, and Chase wraps his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair.

“I’m really hungry now,” he mutters, and Gert snorts.

“I brought that bag of Cheetos up here. And they’re only a little stale,” she whispers, lifting her head up a little as she grins so she can see him smile back. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” he murmurs, his smile softer now. She bites her lip.

“Maybe we could go for waffles sometime,” she says, quietly. “I mean. When we have money. And when we don’t have potential murder charges looming over our heads. Or when our parents—”

“You want to get waffles with me?” His grin is so wide his dimples are showing and he’s got these little lines around the corners of his eyes. It’s too much to look at directly, so Gert buries her face against his shoulder, shrugging.

“Or any other breakfast food,” she mumbles, and he laughs.

“Okay. It’s a date.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: half of this scene was originally in a gert dies fic i've put on hold until i can repurpose it with canon plotlines! mostly just fluff here though, you're welcome! again, sometime between 202 and 206.

It’s late when Gert crawls into bed. She’s wearing a dumb t-shirt he grabbed at a Goodwill a couple of weeks ago that has I Do My Own Stunts written across the chest—she’d snorted the first time he’d worn it. Maybe he’s biased, but it looks good on her, with the hem grazing her thighs. It’s damp in the shoulders from where her hair’s still wet and dripping; she dyed it tonight and he can smell the Manic Panic on her. He wrinkles his nose.

“You know that smells disgusting, right?”

“My aesthetic doesn’t care about what you think smells,” she says, loftily, settling in beside him and grabbing roughly 80 percent of the blankets ( _you’re a human furnace and you don’t need them, let me have my blanket nest_ ). He grins. He can’t help grinning around her, like, all the time. It makes him feel insane in a good way.

“Your aesthetic’s kind of an asshole,” he says, because it’ll make her roll her eyes and he’s kind of obsessed with how she looks when she rolls her eyes.

“You’re an asshole,” she says, childishly, and then he’s kissing her as her wet, gross, chemical smelling hair sticks to his skin. She’s curling a hand into the waistband of his boxers, pulling him down on top of her. When they break apart, he collapses half on top of her with a grin as she half-heartedly pushes him off.

He’s settled on his side, curled around her as she lays on her back, looking up at the ceiling. It’s quiet, and he traces circles on her thighs because he likes doing it, and she likes feeling it, and he’s pretty sure they deserve to have something they like in the middle of all this bullshit.

“I’m going to have to do it again in a couple of weeks, probably,” she says, idly. “My hair, I mean. Purple fades quickly anyway, and this stuff isn’t going to last as long as a salon job, but at least it’ll cover my roots. Sort of. They’ll be purple-ish.”

Chase makes a face. “Is that your way of telling me to get over myself?”

Gert rolls her eyes, turning on her side, facing him now. She picks up his hand and plays with his fingers, idly, looking down at their hands instead of at his face.

“No,” she says, after a moment long enough that he’d almost forgotten he’d asked her a question. “It’s a stupid thing to care about, I guess. We’re dumpster diving for food, and I’m blowing my part of our spending money on Manic Panic.”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, softly; she snorts, and he frowns. “Hey, no, it’s not. I bought gel, and Nico bought all that eyeliner, and Karolina has nail polish, and—”

“We’re all spoiled brats,” she says, wryly. “Yeah, I got that.”

“No,” he says, exasperatedly. “I mean, probably, yeah. But that’s not—you’ve been dying your hair purple for two years. It’s, like. Part of you.”

“It’s reductive to define a woman by her physical characteristics,” she says, in a quiet voice, lacing their fingers together. “But. I mean. Yeah. You’re right.”

He smiles a little sadly and gives her hand a light squeeze. “I just mean we left a lot of stuff behind. Maybe it’s okay if we still want some of it.”

“It’s not the same,” she says, quietly. “I know that.”

“Yeah, I know you do. It’s still okay, though.” She nods a little, and shifts closer, pressing her forehead against his. A lock of her hair falls between them and he wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly.

She laughs, loudly, and presses her lips to his. When she pulls away, her face is soft and pensive.

“What do you still want? Other than your hair gel,” she asks, quietly. He’s not sure what kind of face he’s making, but whatever it is has Gert biting the inside of her lip, so he’s pretty sure he needs to never make it again. “Um. Sorry. We don’t have to keep talking about this if you don’t—”

“No,” he says, quickly, because she didn’t do anything wrong. She’s still frowning, but in a puzzled kind of way. Like she’s waiting because she wants to hear what he has to say next.

The thing is, Chase doesn’t like to think about what he left behind—lacrosse championships and Taco Tuesday and closure he’d just started to believe in.

“My weight set,” he says, and it’s not exactly a lie, but it’s only kind of the truth. His stomach twists a little, even as Gert’s snorting and rolling her eyes. “I had, like, a whole routine every morning. I’m going to have to start lifting Alex’s dumb computer shit pretty soon.”

“Holy shit,” she whispers. “Why do I even like you?”

He grins, and the feeling in his stomach sort of melts away. He raises his arm and flexes. “These guns, probably.”

“Oh my God, stop, stop,” she says, placing hand on his bicep and dragging it back down. She’s leaning over him, hair dangling in his face, and Chase can’t stop grinning.

“Make me,” he says, raising his eyebrows. Gert groans.

“That’s a terrible line,” she mutters.

And then she kisses him anyway, and he grabs her hips, gently tugging her over him, and then he’s not noticing the way her hair smells or thinking about anything they’ve left behind. Not right now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For prompt #48 (morning kiss) from this list: http://yorkesteins.tumblr.com/post/184110884217/prompt-list Feel free to prompt me! If I don't use it for this, I'll try to incorporate somewhere else.

“You have morning breath,” Gert whispers, curling in closer anyway. “Gross.”

 

“You’re the one who rolled over here,” he grumbles, shifting sleepily and pressing his forehead against hers. “I can smell whatever dumpster Lace ate from last night on you.”

 

Gert makes a face. “Jerk.”

 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, grinning. “Gonna kiss you anyway.”

 

“With your morning breath mouth.”

 

“On your dinosaur dumpster mouth,” he says, solemnly. And then he does.

 

Chase’s kisses are sloppier in the morning then his daytime kisses, but not in the _let’s take our clothes off right now_ way of his middle of the night kisses. He starts off soft like he does if Molly’s in the next room or if Gert’s wigging out and he’s trying to calm her down, and then it goes sort of open-mouthed, but not like a heavy makeout session open-mouth. There’s not really that much tongue, and he’s kind of lazy about it in a content sort of way.

 

She really should be more grossed out about the morning breath, but it’s kind of one of her favorite kisses.

 

“You’re thinking super hard about something,” Chase mumbles, pulling away a little. It takes a ton of restraint not to pull him back, which is _ridiculous_ because his face is still, like, four inches away. “Seriously, I can go brush my teeth if it’s bothering you—”

 

“No!” She grabs at his wrist as he moves to sit up. He furrows his brow, confused as he settles back down next to her. She can feel her face going red.

 

“Hey, talk to me,” he says, quietly, then bites his lip. “I mean. If you want to. You don’t have to. Totally your decision, I just meant that you _can_ —”

 

“Chase,” she says, cutting him off, smiling despite her insides threatening to eat themselves out of embarrassment. “I know what you meant.”

 

He nods a little; she picks up his hand and plays with his fingers absently. It makes him smile kind of crookedly, and it’s too much to look at while she says something like this, so she looks down at their hands. He has a couple of freckles on his knuckles, and it’s kind of cute. Her heart thump thumps.

 

“You kiss differently in the morning,” she blurts, and she only _feels_ like she’s going to sink through the mattress, so she soldiers on. “I mean. In a good way. The other kisses are good, too, but…”

 

He isn’t saying anything, so she chances a glance up. He’s grinning so widely it’s like staring directly into the sun, except she doesn’t really care if she goes blind, and she’s super paranoid about that with the actual sun, you know?

 

“I wouldn’t get to kiss you like this if we were at home,” she says, so quietly she’s sort of surprised he’s listening hard enough to hear her. His face shifts into something softer and a little more serious. “I mean, yeah, everything’s kind of shitty and scary, and it’s not like any of that ever goes away, but I wouldn’t get to kiss you when I wake up.”

 

Her face feels so hot.

 

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing her hand and meeting her eyes like he just understood every absurd word in that completely dumb and besotted sentence, so maybe she doesn’t have to go find a hole to crawl in after all! “I like this part, too.”

 

Well, okay, holy shit, _okay_.

 

“Technically, I didn’t say I liked it,” she says, but she can feel herself kind of smiling a little as the knots in her stomach start to unfurl. “It’s actually just a statement of fact, I wouldn’t be—”

 

He kisses her again; when he looks away, he looks absurdly pleased with himself, and she rolls her eyes.

 

“Cutting people off is rude, Chase.”

 

“You’ve cut me off at least twice in the five minutes we’ve been awake.”

 

“Pointing out my hypocrisy is rude, Chase.”

 

“You like when I kiss you in the morning.”

 

He stretches out a little, leaning his head against her shoulder and sprawling an arm across her stomach.

 

“Yeah,” she says, running a hand through his hair. “Jerk.”


End file.
